


Sweater Weather

by ghoulhunt



Series: TG Rare Pair Week 2015 [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Fluff, I believe, M/M, Pre-Canon, honestly don't know what else to tag this as, slightly violent description of things, tg rare pair week, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulhunt/pseuds/ghoulhunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yomo and Uta wake up to a very, very cold morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> These losers are my otp to be honest so here was my first entry for this thing...

Yomo Renji wakes up to a tuft of blonde hair brushing his face.  
It’s not that it is morning, in fact it is quite opposite of morning, and he and Uta have just slept for more than twelve hours. The sun shines through the blinds and reflects across the white walls, which blind Yomo for the briefest of moments as his eyes open to look around the room. The room is the same as it had been when he had first seen it, with clothes thrown askew the room and a messy desk with an Exacto blade and sewing materials.  
Uta is still fast asleep under the covers, his breathing steady and shallow. The sun rests on his eyelids, making his pale skin seem even paler, and somewhat brighter. He looks so at peace, and Yomo doesn’t want to ruin the pleasant sight. It’s one of the first times he’s had in a long time where he is able to genuinely smile.  
He doesn’t dare shift his position. He would rather stare at the back of his messy blonde head than disturb the shirtless being lying next to him. He gently places a hand on the other’s shoulder anyways, because he needs to know that what he’s woken up to is in fact real. His skin feels cold underneath his touch, even though the both of them are covered in a sheet, a comforter, and another blanket to keep them warm in the winter’s dreadful cold.  
In some ways, Yomo wishes he could freeze the moment. Let all be good, for once in their lives. Without having to worry what is happening in the rest of the uninhabitable ward. He wants to see the blonde not as reckless as he usually is, or hear him scream in pain as his limbs and torso are sliced open by another’s Kagune.  
(These thoughts constantly plague him. Even if no one dares to mess with him, there is still that one chance where he could be severely injured, beyond regeneration point, or dead. Yomo doesn’t like to think about that.)  
Sometimes Yomo wonders what Uta dreams about. If he does dream. He only has nightmares, and even though he’s able to deal with them, they still scare him and sadden him, to the point where he might as well not even sleep. Uta knows how to soothe them, and knows how to calm him down so he can drift off into nothingness.  
Uta begins to stir. His breathing quickens, and he begins to move, his hand finding Yomo’s. He is shivering with coldness, and uses his other hand to pull the blankets up and over his head, which only reaches Yomo’s nose.  
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Yomo whispers playfully, which earns him a muffled and croaky groan from the other. “Did you sleep well?”  
With reluctance, the other ghoul uses all of his energy to roll over, never letting go of Yomo’s hand even as it slid underneath him. “It’s cold…” He says, his speech slurred due to drowsiness, and his eyes are still closed.  
“Don’t go back to sleep.”  
They flicker open, annoyed. “Renji-kun.”  
“Yes?”  
“We should go make something to eat…” The ghoul rubs his eyes and slowly begins to prop himself up against his pillow. Yomo lifts himself up too, his vision spotting at the sudden movement.  
Yomo isn’t a very good cook, and never actually has been when it comes to frying or baking cuts Uta stores in the freezer. He’s seen Uta do it plenty of times, when he really wants to eat something that isn’t raw or too bloodied. The meat is in the freezer for emergencies, which have happened before, but it’s more often used to simply eat whenever they feel the need to.  
(They haven’t eaten in a while. They probably should before hunger pangs begin to set in.)  
The only thing Yomo is experienced in with cooking is making coffee, like he did at Anteiku. Though he wasn’t the greatest with customers, his coffee always received great comments. Uta seems to favor it as well.  
“Mmm…” Yomo starts, “How about you go brush your teeth and I’ll go make coffee.”  
Uta whines. “It’s too cold to get out of bed.”  
Yomo shakes his head. It is quite cold outside of the blankets, and he would love to just snuggle up to the other for the rest of the day while they watched a movie or something. He just wants to have a lazy day with Uta, and not do anything, but it’s so cold even that seems impossible.  
“I’m going to go make coffee to warm you up then. But get up and at least try to function.” Yomo says, with a smile just on the corners of his mouth. He crawls over Uta and slides off the bed, smoothing out his white tee shirt, and sets off into the connecting room that is the small kitchen.  
It’s comfortable. There is a counter which extends the length of the room and ends at the doorway to the living room, on the lefthand side. There is a small sink, and next to that a drying rack. There is also a rice cooker on the very end of the counter, which has never been used, two burners, and a coffee pot. The freezer and fryer sit below these things in the counter, dishes in the above cabinets and everything else where it needs to be. There is also a small area to sit on stools across from all of this.  
Yomo begins to take out the beans and grind them into a fine powdery substance. The grounds are fairly fresh, and smell up the room with its strong aroma. He’s sure Uta can smell it from wherever he is. He pours the grounds into the filter, the water into the steamer, and closes the lid. It’s not as manually done as it once was at Anteiku, but hopefully the taste will be of similar results.  
Uta walks into the kitchen with a sweater that is a size bigger than his, the length of it reaching his mid thigh. His hair is pulled back in a black headband.  
(Wait. That’s his sweater. Uta is wearing his sweater.)  
Yomo turns away from the other ghoul, a light blush forming on his cheeks. He focuses on the sound of the coffee dripping, and he knows that behind him, Uta is smirking. He can smell his smugness.  
“Renji-kun, your sweater is really warm. Not to mention, soft.” Uta smiles wide, walking up next to Yomo, who looks thoroughly embarrassed at the other.  
His cheeks are turning pinker.  
“Why are you so red-faced about it?” Uta asks, opening one of many cabinets to retrieve a glass jar, where a bunch of eyes stare lifelessly out of. “You can borrow one of mine, if you want.”  
(Damn it, it’s like he’s trying to make him flustered.)  
Yomo doesn’t bother to respond. Instead, he reaches above to get two mugs, while he listens to the sound of Uta’s bare feet walk out of the room with an eyeball in his palm. The white haired ghoul tries to keep himself distracted with the setting up of the plain black mugs, but there’s not much he can do. It’s not like they put anything in their coffees anyway. He worries his fingernail, waiting for the dripping of the brown liquid to stop.  
There is a sudden amount of weight draped across his shoulders, which catches him by surprise. It is a combination of Uta’s arms and his own tribal wrap, which smells just like him and brings him some sort of relief.  
(Yomo refuses to believe he’s adorable in doing this. He can’t.)  
“Thank you.” He lets his smile, the one he’d desperately been trying to hold back, take over his lips. His neck crane sideways in order to see the black eyed ghoul standing on his toes to reach him. There is a small smile on him, too.  
Uta takes that smile and presses a small kiss into the crook of Yomo’s neck. It causes the taller ghoul to smile more.  
The sound of the coffee maker stops, leaving ripples in the pot. Yomo takes one hand and grabs the handle of the coffee pot, pouring the dark brown liquid into both mugs as Uta murmurs sweet nothings into his ear.  
“You know you mean everything to me,” he says, and he feels quite shy himself. He burrows his face further into his own sweater wrap, which messes up the front of his hair more. “And I love your scent, and I love your sweaters, and I really love you. Did you know that?”  
Once again, Yomo is blushing. He really hates blushing, especially in front of others, but he can’t help but think of how much he loves him back, even if it doesn’t outwardly seem like it.  
“I love you too, Uta.” He replies.  
(They take the coffee and spend the rest of the day in bed, still wearing each others’ clothes.)


End file.
